A Day in the Life of Lord Voldemort: Therapy
by Xarkun
Summary: Lord Voldemort attends therapy, with Snape as the psychiatrist. Bellatrix accompanies him and hilarity ensues. Oneshot.


_A Day in the Life of Lord Voldemort: Therapy Sessions_

by Xarkun

_  
_Being a Dark Lord was a difficult, exhausting business that often took a severe toll on said Dark Lord's physical health and mental well-being. What with the constant murdering, torture, making-of-frightening-faces-to-scare-the-living-hell-out-of-tortured-victims, not to mention to the consistent failures to capture and/or kill Harry Potter that were _always_ bad luck on Voldemort's part; yes, that all took a hefty toll.

Oh, and then there was all the internal mess within his small army of Death Eaters. Lucius was incompetent, no one could cook worth a damn, especially Narcissa, there was a rift between Bellatrix and Rudolphus, Wormtail liked to lock himself in his bedroom for long hours and nobody knew what the hell he was doing in there, Fenrir Greyback had developed an annoying habit of bringing his dinner home, not to mention _guests_, and Bellatrix was constantly trying to seduce Voldemort.

On top of this all, Voldemort was trying to take over the Wizarding World and kill a young boy named Harry Potter.

One would think he would've accomplished this already, what with his astounding powers, but no, he hadn't. Deep down, this had affected the Dark Lord greatly, made him… sad, even. Thus the need for therapy.

Lord Voldemort, however, needed to keep things on the down low since he was a wanted criminal. Thus, he was having a therapist brought in to his base of operations, Malfoy Manor. This was top secret of course; the only people who knew were himself and Bellatrix who had insisted on accompanying him to therapy because she thought a bit of 'couple's consoling would do them good'. At first, Voldemort had resisted, but then Bellatrix had threatened to expose herself; not in the sense that she would turn herself in to the Ministry, however.

Voldemort and Bellatrix entered the designated room in the upper floors of Malfoy Manor where the therapist was. The Dark Lord was surprised to see his own servant and spy, Severus Snape, sitting on a comfortable looking chair within the room. A Quick Quotes Quill floated off to the left of the Death Eater, parchment under it. Snape was wearing a pair of feminine looking glasses on his nose. He stared over them at his master and Bellatrix.

"Hello, Master," Snape drawled.

"Severus," Voldemort hissed, "You're looking quite greasy today. But, what is the meaning of this?"

"You're looking quite bald today, Master. To your question: I'm a licensed psychotherapist," Snape said, his greasy hair bobbing slightly in the wind of the open window. "Bellatrix and I thought it would be better for you to see someone within our inner workings. We feared that a regular, hostage therapist would be afraid in your presence, and would then suffer a breakdown when you began to talk about your problems."

"Exactly, My Lord," said Bellatrix lovingly. "You're too good for any other therapists."

This was just a kind way of saying a normal person would probably shit themselves and then go insane.

"Let's get started, Master," Snape suggested. "Have a seat on the sofa."

"You do not command me, Severus!" Voldemort snapped.

Snape eyed him exasperatedly. "It was merely a request."

The Potion's Master turned to the Quill. "Note that subject is highly agitated. Possibly due to heightened levels of testosterone, or maybe he's just nuts... er...replace nuts with something... professional, though."

"Outrageous! I do not have heightened testosterone levels, and I am not nuts!" Voldemort cried.

"Oh suuuuure, you are, My Lord," said Bellatrix knowingly.

"Er..." Snape trailed off, a look of disgust on his face. "Perhaps you should leave."

"NEVER!" Bellatrix roared. "My Lord is in a delicate psychological state."

"Bellatrix, be blunt with me. Do you have _knowledge _of the Dark Lord?"

"What do you mean?!" Bellatrix demanded as though this was preposterous.

At this point, Voldemort plugged his ears and tried to think about how gratifying it would be to kill Harry Potter.

"Have you or have you not seen the Dark Lord in the buff?" Snape asked.

Bellatrix looked at her feet guiltily.

"As I suspected," Snape said. The Quill made several notes. "Now, tell me, are you or are you not up with the dove?"

"Yes! No...... What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Let me put it in layman's terms. Are you a knocked up baby mama?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that," Bellatrix said slyly, taking an item that looked suspiciously like a key component of a pregnancy test and shoving it in between her bosoms.

"What was that?" Snape demanded as Bellatrix began to squeeze her overly large breasts together in an attempt to hide the bulging pregnancy test.

"Nothing," Bellatrix insisted. "Unless... you want to come see for yourself."

Snape seemed to consider this for a moment. "No, not while we have the Dark Lord to attend to."

"Oooooh," said Bellatrix furtively.

"Not in that way," Snape said, disgusted.

"Damn," Bellatrix muttered. "Well, you want to come see for yourself later, Sevvy?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "You really are a whore."

Before Bellatrix could angrily retort, Voldemort spoke--yelled, actually.

"ARE YOU FINISHED?!" he demanded.

"Quite," said Snape, remembering a very late night long ago, after which he'd come down with a bad case of gonorrhea. He shook his greasy head to disperse the images. "Now, My Lord, perhaps you can start by telling me exactly how you feel."

"I feel depressed, Severus, very depressed."

"Awww, it's okay, My Lord!" shrieked Bellatrix, massaging his shoulders. "Bella will make it all better."

Voldemort's upper lip curled.

"Perhaps you should vacate the premises, Bellatrix," Snape said.

"What?" the confused whore snapped.

"Get the hell out of here, and stop alluding to your disgusting sex life!"

"Oh, shut up, Severus! My Lord, make babies with me!"

"Bellatrix! I must ask to cease being a ho, or get the hell out of here!"

Bellatrix gave Snape a one-fingered salute, and sat down on the sofa, arms crossed.

Snape threw a very heavy book at her. Before she could raise her wand, it hit her in the side of the head and knocked her unconscious.

"Thank heavens!" Voldemort cried. "You don't know how horrible it's been having her following me everywhere. Every time we're alone she insists on making love. Do you know that--"

"That's quite enough, My Lord. Please do not go on. It would be detrimental to MY mental sanity."

"Fine."

"Now, when did you start feeling depressed?"

"When my own curse rebounded on me and didn't kill the little brat!"

"Harry Potter?"

"YES!"

"I see," said Snape, gesturing for the Quill to take notes. "Go on...."

"Right, so then I try to get the Philosopher's Stone and the little twat stops me! I blamed Quirrel for that, but the Chamber of Secrets.... Then with the Triwizard Tournament, then the night at the Ministry.... It's like impotence! I need... murderous Viagra! Severus what the hell is wrong with me?!"

"I see," said Snape. The Quill was furiously taking notes, and nearly running out of parchment. "Quite as case, quite a case. Did you say 'murderous Viagra'?"

"Yes!"

"You're comparing your inability to kill the boy with inability to sustain a lasting... erm--just note it so I don't have to say it!" Snape demanded of the Quill. "My Lord, pardon me for asking, but did you ever experience any abuse in your childhood? Your answer suggests that, perhaps, you've suffered some form of sexual abuse."

"Only from Bellatrix," Voldemort said.

"Excuse me for a moment," Snape said. He bent over the top of his chair and promptly threw up.

"All right," said Snape. "I shall now put you through something called a Rorschach test. As I hold up the inkblots, tell me what you see."

"Very well," said the Dark Lord.

Snape flicked his wand and a piece of parchment with an inkblot splattered upon it appeared out of thin air.

"What do you see?" Snape asked.

"A bottle of Viagra," Voldemort said.

"Jesus Christ!" Snape snapped.

He flicked his wand, and another inkblot appeared.

"Now?"

"Male enhancement drugs."

"_Lovely_. Now?"

"A cave."

"Okay....."

Another appeared.

"Now?"

"Bellatrix's cave."

"My Lord, I'm going to have to request you refrain from mentioning any part of Bellatrix's anatomy."

"But it's what I see, Severus!"

"Quill, note that the subject appears highly, highly disturbed."

The quill followed orders.

Snape then caused another inkblot to appear.

"Now?"

"Bellatrix mast--"

"ENOUGH!"

He flicked his wand again.

"Now?"

"Death."

Once more.

"Now?"

"More Death."

"Now?"

"Horror."

"Now?"

"Kittens."

"Kittens?!"

"Evil kittens!" Voldemort amended.

"Whatever…. Now?"

"The meaning of life...."

Snape furrowed his brow in confusion. He took a look at the inkblot. It appeared to be a depiction of a decapitated young boy that looked suspiciously like Harry Potter. This was easily discernable because there was a nude woman with very bushy hair crying over his body.

"Subject shows disturbing attraction to death, sex, and Viagra," Snape told the Quill.

"What's wrong with me, Severus?!" Voldemort demanded.

"Well, everything. You're comparing impotence with murder, you seem to have a fascination with death, and it would appear that an image of Bellatrix's female parts is stuck inside your mind."

"It's stuck in everyone's mind, I'm sure," Voldemort trailed off.

"Indeed," Snape agreed, trying to banish the images.

The Quill jumped to take note. Snape gave it a meaningful look. It did not make a notation of any kind.

"Well, this doesn't all add quite up for me." Snape said. "You always passed your failures with the boy as bad luck on your part and bad odds. There must be something else triggering your depression."

"Well..." Voldemort trailed off.

"Yes?" Snape prompted.

"There is a sex tape...."

"Oh dear. Please tell me Bellatrix didn't give you that date rape drug!"

"And then Viagra."

"I can see why you are depressed. Did you view the tape?"

"Yes."

"Something similar happened to me--I mean Lucius. I--he had to attend therapy for eighteen years."

"Eighteen years?!"

"Yes."

"I don't have eighteen years to attend therapy! I need to kill the boy and take over the world!"

"I know. There is only one way, however, to ease your depression."

"How?"

"You must either destroy the tape, or sell it on ebay. If you destroy it, you will have no more problems. If you sell it, you will pass them on to someone else."

"You're right!" Voldemort cried. "But there is one problem...."

"What?"

"Bellatrix has stored the tape in between her boobs."

Snape threw up again.

"I am NOT getting it out of there." Voldemort said.

"Neither am I," Snape said.

"Perhaps, if we took her to a plastic surgeon…."

"Go on," Snape prompted.

"Well, see's been complaining they're too small…."

"So…?"

"We could take her for plastic surgery, and then the surgeon can extract the tape!"

"That's foolish! What if he watches it?"

"You're right, Severus. Perhaps we can make Bellatrix run."

"That's ghastly! No one wants to see that, besides, one of those things might smack her in the face and kill her."

The two men paused for a moment, considering this.

"Bellatrix is a useful servant," Voldemort said.

"She gave me gonorrhea!" Snape cried.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Severus."

"Right," Snape agreed, attempting to do so.

"Before we decide about Bellatrix, have you concluded anything?"

"Haven't I told you, Master?"

"I don't remember…."

"Well, short and simply, you are a very disturbed man…. Uh… there is a term. Nuttier than a fruitcake, I think. You are nuttier than a fruitcake!"

"Yes he is!" Bellatrix agreed, conscious now.

An idea struck Snape. He picked up a random brick and hurled it at Bellatrix. This time, however, she was ready. She raised her wand and the brick shattered into a billion pieces. But, as Snape had hoped, the upward motion of Bellatrix raising her arm caused both the pregnancy test and the sex tape to fly from their lodgings between Bellatrix's large boobs.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _Voldemort roared. The jet of green light from his wand and hit the sex tape. There was a loud moan, and then the thing blew up.

"_Accio!" _Voldemort cried.

The pregnancy test flew to his hand. He took one look at it and blanched.

Snape caught sight of it too and fainted.

Bellatrix giggled.

"I was thinking we could name his Tommy Jr."

Voldemort suffered an aneurism.


End file.
